We'll Say It Like That
by Ill Ame
Summary: A collection of fics about the Elric Brothers, written for a livejournal community. Fourth up: Stained. Challenge: Flowers. Al thinks that all flowers should stay in the ground, even the bad ones.
1. Chinese Whispers

Disclaimer: I own the plot of this fic only, and it's certainly not earning me any money. worships Arakawa-sensei

Warnings: Mild language, cross dressing, and general ridiculousness.

Notes: Slightly AU, since I'm throwing political and alchemical ramifications out the window to give Ling, Al, and the whole military crew happy endings (no, not that kind, mind out of the gutter.) Thanks to my darling Kyaru-chan for betaing! This is the first of 25 Ed'n'Al-centric fics that are _supposed_ to be fluffy but…eh…this one kind of fails. It's more crack than anything else. Hope you enjoy regardless, and remember to review!

**Chinese Whispers**

Edward Elric had fought through adolescence with the reassuring knowledge that his brother _needed_ him. The responsibility became a comfortable weight on his shoulders, as unquestioned as the force of gravity. He'd stopped noticing it merely because it was a part of him that he never expected to lose. Even after Alphonse returned to his body, it had taken weeks of devotion, each night spent in a chair at his bedside, to nurse him back to full health.

Edward had never anticipated that his brother would be the one to finally break their connection. It was as if Al had removed a plug from some hidden socket in Ed's chest, suddenly finding that he could run on his own power. And run he did, a knight, finally bereft of his shining armor, chasing his princess into the sunrise.

The portion of his heart that Ed had reserved for Winry seemed to grow with a keen sympathy for her trials over the years. Abruptly, he found himself tossed among the Waiters of the world, watching twilight fall with the disappointment of another day devoid of phone calls. He remembered the way she used to complain, to wistfully request that they be careful and come back safe and come back soon. The guilt and comprehension balled together in his gut ensured that Ed never forgot to keep in touch these days, and Winry understood why he always hung up quickly. It wouldn't do to tie up the phone lines.

The first call came in the early hours of the morning, no doubt due to a difference in time zones.

"What?" Ed snapped into the receiver, his tone promising grisly retribution on whoever dared disturb his slumber. If Mustang was calling him in again, he was going to tear the man limb from-

"…Brother?"

All thoughts of revenge flew from Ed's mind to be replaced by a frantic, angry sort of relief.

"Al! Where the hell have you been?"

His voice was faint and a little crackly when he replied, but Edward hung on every word, searching for some sign of fatigue, illness, or injury. "I just got here. Sorry if I made you worry."

"I'm not worried, I wasn't _worried_," Ed lied. "What do you mean, you just got there? It's been ages since you left."

A barely audible sigh carried down the phone lines. "It's only been a week, and that's pretty fast even with the train tracks up and running."

"Oh." Only a week. They'd been separated for longer in the past, but somehow this time seemed far more unbearable than any other.

"I'm not sure how long I'll stay here," Al continued.

"Well make sure to keep in touch."

"I'll do my best."

"A-" Ed swallowed, started again. "Are you sure you'll be all right on your own?"

A soft laugh pressed against his ear. "I'm not helpless, Brother. And I'm not alone. Mei met me at the station. She says she's found me a place to stay, so I should settle in just fine."

"Mei, huh?" Ed snorted. "That bean girl?"

"Yes, and she's been very _kind_." Al's voice rang with disapproval, but it seemed there were some battles he'd learned to stop fighting.

Ed couldn't keep the bitterness from his reply. "Well, isn't that lovely. I'm sure you'll get on very well with her and that demon cat, you're both-"

"Brother."

"What?"

"I'll miss you."

"You _will_? What, you mean you don't miss me yet?" Ed said with a smirk that verged very closely on a grin.

He could swear he heard his younger brother's answering smile. "Of course I do."

"Good. You better. Hey, buy me a souvenir or something will ya? And next time you call, don't do it at three in the morning."

Approximately one week later, seven days filled with far fewer phone calls than Edward had hoped for, the package arrived. It was thin, wrapped in brown paper, and covered with strange postmarks he'd never seen before. Beneath the paper and the lid of the box, lying atop a wrapped bundle, rested a simple note:

_The color suits you._

_Love, Al_

The bundle contained something that was deep red, delicately embroidered and a dress. Needless to say, Ed was only concentrating on the last point.

"Why the hell did you send me a dress!"

"You asked for a souvenir, didn't you?" Alphonse asked, the sound of repressed laughter destroying his innocent tone.

"I'm not a _woman_, Al!" Ed shouted, unclenching his automail hand just in time to avoid crushing the phone. "And I hate that Xingian clothing anyway!"

"Aw, come on," Al pleaded, breaking into occasional fits of giggles. "I think it's lovely. I bet you'd look beautiful in that dress."

"Augh! Why don't you send these things to Winry and just buy me _books_?"

"Hmm… Because this is so much more fun."

"For _you_!"

Al's giggles broke into peals of open laughter.

"What happened to the sweet, innocent little Al I used to know?" Ed muttered.

"Maybe he spent too much time with his big brother."

Alphonse was left with a ringing in his ear as said big brother fiercely disconnected him.

-------

Edward Elric would not be caught dead in a dress. And he would never consciously decide to wear one. It just…sort of…_happened_.

In the beginning, all he did was look at it. He wasn't conducting much research, wanting to keep as far from the Stone as possible. Mustang hadn't found an assignment for him in ages, and it had been a few days since Al's last phone call. He had nothing to do and nowhere to go and his brother was hundreds of miles away. He was in hell.

Ed pulled the box from the back of his closet without knowing what exactly he planned to do with it. He ran his hand gently over the folded silk it contained, wondering where Al had picked the thing up. He lifted it, bringing the fabric to his nose, and breathed in. It didn't smell like Al; there was a strange, flowery perfume drifting from the dress, so decidedly female that Ed dropped it as if he'd been burned. He shoved the box away and left to wash the scent from his hands.

He never expected to pull the dress out again, but it seemed to keep happening, and with increasing frequency. Whenever he felt lonely or bored or just plain Al-deprived, Ed would let the cloth slip through his fingers and wonder where Al was now, what he was doing, would he call soon? Would he come home soon?

The sleeves were long and wide; they pooled around his wrists to nearly cover the metal fingers of his right hand. When he walked, the silk flowed smoothly over the hairs on his thighs, a welcome relief from constricting leather. If Edward hadn't meant to keep looking at the dress, he certainly had never dreamed of wearing it. That didn't change the fact that he ended up inside it anyway.

Ed would draw shades across the windows and sit on his bed, legs curled up to his chest so he could feel the shift of fabric on fabric with every inhale and exhale. He would breathe deeply, drawing in particles of the perfume that clung to his skin even after he'd stripped and showered and pulled his hair back into its familiar braid. He half expected someone to comment on the strange, exotic smell that followed him, but no one else seemed to notice it.

Ed tried not to think about what he was doing. It scared him, probably because the whole process was so damn comforting. _Everybody has their little secrets_, Ed told himself. _I've already got plenty. What's one more?_

Of course, the fates had never been kind to Edward Elric.

"He's just a petty thief, nothing too serious," Mustang told him over the phone. "Reports say he's an automail user, though. I figured that was right up your alley."

Ed made a show of grumbling, but he had to admit that he was glad for any assignment, no matter how small.

"Just capture him and bring him into custody. I trust you can handle that without destroying half the city?"

"Yeah, yeah, is that it?"

"Nearly. He seems to be nocturnal, so I'll send Second Lieutenant Breda around with a car at eight tonight. Unless you had other plans?"

Ed slammed the phone down on the smirk he heard in the older man's voice.

He knew he should get some sleep if this was going to be a night hunt, but with Al gone Ed's habit of grabbing some shut-eye anytime, anywhere had practically disappeared. While he would have happily slept away each day until noon, an anxiety seized him the moment his eyes opened and wouldn't let go until he had exhausted himself. So far, Ed had only found one solution to this problem. It was crimson and silky, and it lived in his closet.

-------

Ed's eyes popped open to the noise of a heavy fist on his door and a man calling, "Hey Boss, you in there?" He barely registered the words, "I'm coming in," but once they hit his brain, his body started moving faster than even he would have believed possible.

When Second Lieutenant Breda poked his head into Ed's room, he was met with the sight of the boy in nothing but a pair of boxers, frantically trying to shed some kind of shiny red garment that was bunched around his neck.

"Ba- Bathrobe!" Ed stuttered. "I was asleep, this is my- Just let me get dressed, I'll be right out!" And the door slammed shut on Breda's bewildered face.

After entertaining the frightening notion of Fullmetal in a dress and wondering briefly whether the boy would be willing to indulge the Colonel's miniskirt fetish, Breda banished the thought from his mind. Impossible. His eyes must have been tricking him.

Two minutes later, Ed was in the hall, complete with coat, pants, combat boots, and a slouch unmatched by any other. Despite his long hair, there was nothing feminine about him. "Are we doing this?" Ed asked gruffly. The rosy tint was already fading from his cheeks.

"Of course, Boss. Follow me."

And that was the end of the dress.

-------

"I'm sorry it's been so long since my last call, Brother-"

"Yeah, you better be."

"-but everything here has been so busy what with the wedding preparations and all, and it's impossible to get away."

Ed blinked. "…huh?"

"You wouldn't believe the amount of planning they put into these royal weddings, and with this one only a week away I don't even have a minute to sit down. I swear, every time I try to escape to the phone, a new order has to be placed, the flowers aren't right, the dress is too long, and I'm expected to take care of it all. There's been a prediction of rain for the wedding date and I think, maybe I heard wrong, but I _think_ some of the guests are expecting me to change the _weather_!" Al laughed for a few seconds, before trailing off awkwardly at his brother's answering silence.

Ed had thought it was a joke at first, but as Al continued, the painfully shocking reality was descending with the force of a vindictive sledgehammer. "WHAT?" he yelped once he gained control of his vocal cords.

"I know it sounds like a lame excuse, but since when have I looked for excuses not to call you?" Al asked, his voice filled with a fondness that only made Ed's stomach curdle faster.

Ed forced a few halting words past his lips while his mind continued to reel. "I-Isn't it a little soon for marriage?"

"That's what I said," Al replied. "But I guess this is just the way they do things here. They want to start producing heirs as soon as possible and all that."

Ed's knees nearly gave out on him. Alphonse was getting married. His baby brother… saddled with a wife and… and… _heirs_! This had to be stopped!

"Do you have anything you'd like to say to the groom?" Al asked expectantly. Ed could hear the grin in his voice, picture Al's flushed face carrying the same expression as he gazed at his pint-sized wife-to-be.

"Con-congratulations," Ed replied, practically strangling himself with the word. "I have to go." He dropped the receiver with a clunk and sank to the floor.

Two hours later, Edward had breezed past headquarters with a hasty message of, "Family emergency in Xing, I'll be back in two weeks", ignored the Colonel's outraged cry of, "Fullmetal, where the _hell_ do you think you're going?", and was now pulling out of the train station, settled in for a long trip to the East. As usual, he'd only packed a single suitcase, but this time it was made a little more full by a thin package wrapped in brown paper.

-------

She walked into the wedding as if she were royalty herself. Her red dress may have been wrinkled, but it was clearly well made, and the way she held her shoulders told anyone who dared to look that she had enough pride to match the emperor. A black fan obscured her lips and nose like the shadow over a waxing moon. Above its edge, her fierce gold eyes cleared away any man who dared to stand in her path. Her name was Edward Elric, and she had come to kick some ass.

-------

"I object to this marriage!" Ed shouted once he reached the head of the aisle. His eyes scanned the gathering, but he couldn't spot Alphonse anywhere. Had he come too late? Regardless, he had the audience's attention – it was now or never.

"The groom already has a wife!" he announced triumphantly.

He was met with hundreds of blank faces, a few confused whispers, and… the blades of seven kunai pointed straight at his throat. Flexing his automail hand, Ed wondered how effective a weapon his fan would be in getting past all those knives. To his left, he could hear an oddly familiar voice speaking a language he couldn't understand, and the blades were withdrawn, leaving a strange prickling sensation around his neck.

Only one of his attackers remained, and Ed followed that black clad arm up to a red and white mask that he had most certainly seen before, and had even tried to recreate.

"You!" he cried, before remembering his disguise and snapping his mouth shut.

"Ran Fan, I said you may stand down. You must be polite. Unexpected guests are still guests after all."

The woman reluctantly removed her knife from his throat, but Ed wasn't watching her anymore. Now that it was speaking in his own tongue, he would know that voice anywhere Reassuring himself that the fan still hid his face, Ed carefully bowed before Xing's emperor. When he straightened his back once more, Ling was grinning at him and he realized with a nervous jolt that Al stood behind Ling's back. His brother looked completely mortified.

"You say the groom is already married," Ling confirmed, and Ed nodded slowly. "I don't see a great problem there. It's not an uncommon practice in this country to take several wives, though in this case I think I ought to be aware of a previous marriage. Who do you claim this wife to be?"

Ed squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "Me," he replied firmly.

A whimpery "Eeeeh?" slipped out of Al, while Ling's grin widened until it was positively and sadistically shit-eating.

"Hmm…" He began circling Ed, looking him up and down. "Who is this bold young maiden with such a low voice and such a… compact… stature?" Ed bit his lip to keep from shouting. "I don't seem to know her, yet those striking eyes…" He reached beneath the fan to tilt Ed's chin with the tip of a finger. "So _familiar_."

There was a pause during which Ed held his breath, a breath that Ling's next words knocked out of him completely. "Generally, the emperor will only take the daughters of the fifty tribes as concubines. However, if you are so enthusiastic I might be willing to make an exception for your case."

"Wh-what?" Ed breathed, his eyes widening in confusion.

"No need to look so grateful," Ling oozed. "How could I refuse someone so eager? I'll forgive your little interruption, and once I'm finished with this ceremony I'll grant you the honor of becoming my second wife."

"Young Master!" Ranfan exclaimed.

Ed's face transformed from pale white to scarlet in a matter of seconds. "I never said anything about-"

Ling continued talking over them both. "Of course, you'll have to wait a little while so we can plan a ceremony of some sort – not nearly so elaborate as this one naturally, but certain customs must be observed under all circumstances. Oh, I'm sorry, I never asked your name. What is it, my dear?"

Ling took hold of his bare automail hand quite solemnly, but the instant he looked into Ed's shocked eyes, the laughter burst from his grinning lips. The crowd was murmuring loudly among themselves and Ed felt his face grow impossibly redder. Freeing his hand from Ling's grasp with a rough jerk, Ed shouted angrily, "Can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?"

Finally Alphonse stepped in, his own cheeks flaring in contact embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, sir," he said, bowing low.

"Don't worry about it, Alphonse," Ling reassured him. "Just make sure to return quickly; I wouldn't want you to miss the ceremony after you've been so helpful preparing it. Oh, and you're welcome to bring your brother back with you, if he's willing to sit quietly and behave."

Al grabbed Ed's elbow and began leading him away. In a last ditch attempt to preserve his fleeing dignity, Edward yelled over his shoulder, "Idiot Emperor! I have no reservations about _beating the shit out of you_!"

He received a laugh in reply, cut short quickly so that Ling could call Ran Fan off the chase.

"Brother!" Al scolded once they were out of earshot. "You can't say those kinds of things! It was bad enough when he was a prince, but now that he's the emperor-"

"I don't care, Al!" Ed cried, pushing away from his younger brother's hold. "He _humiliated_ me!"

"And whose fault was that?" Al glanced down at Ed's dress and snickered. "When I sent you that thing, I didn't seriously expect you to wear it. What on _earth_ were you trying to do?"

"I thought… I mean, when you called…" Ed stopped and tried to come up with a way to word this that didn't make him sound like a neurotic idiot. He came to the conclusion that there wasn't one. "Never mind."

"Are you kidding me?" Al stopped walking and grabbed hold of Ed's arm again. "You can't just show up and make a scene like that and then not tell me why. Were you trying to stop Ling from getting married?"

Ed sighed, flushing again as he muttered, "Not Ling."

"Huh?"

"I…I thought it was _you_ getting married," he explained quickly, avoiding Al's eyes.

"And you came all the way out here to- Where did you get that idea anyway?" Al asked. "It's not like I'd have a wedding without you there. Who would I marry?"

Ed shrugged awkwardly and began walking again, Alphonse at his heels. "I dunno. Whatsername. The bean girl."

Al laughed. "Mei? No way." Suddenly his eyes lit up. "Wait, do you really think she might-"

"Don't even say it, Al!"

The sound of their footsteps echoed along streets that had emptied in honor of the emperor's marriage.

"Hey Brother."

"What?" Ed growled.

"Told you that dress would look good on you."

"Shut up." Ed stomped his feet harder and tried to stare a hole in the ground. If he were lucky, he could hide in it until he managed to will his blush away. A sudden jerk on his hand broke into his thoughts, pulling him back and to the right.

"Come on, Princess," Al prompted with a gentle smile. "The house is this way."

Ed resisted the urge to glare, giving an answering curve of the lips instead. They didn't speak the words aloud, but the Elric brothers could read them in each other's eyes.

_It's good to have you back._

"Lead on, little brother."

It took sixteen angry phone calls from Mustang to persuade them to return to Amestris, a week later than Ed had promised but with twice the Elric to make up for the delay. The red dress was never seen again (except in the pictures that Mei had snapped for blackmail material) and Edward Elric went down in history as the man who not only fed shoes to the emperor, but crashed his wedding as well.


	2. A Tale of Questionable Intent

Disclaimer: The Elric brothers belong to Hiromu Arakawa etc., as does the Hagaren-verse. If I were writing this for profit, trust me, it would be better written.

Notes: Kyaru-chan prompted me with 'date doctor', and as the fic progressed I found it just didn't fit with any of the prompts from the LJ community. So 'writer's choice' it is. Not quite happy with this one, but I'm sick of dealing with it by now. That being said, I'm sure there's an Edward Scissorhands joke in here somewhere… :P

**A Tale of Questionable Intent**

Ed tipped back onto two legs of his chair, feet resting on the table in front of him, a heavy volume propped open on his knees. The library was quiet this near to closing time, so his usually indivertible attention was grabbed quickly when a voice spoke behind him.

"Brother, I need a girlfriend."

The announcement was followed by a yelp and a crash, and Edward Elric found himself on his back, staring up at Al's concerned face. "Wh-_what_?" he stammered, bewildered.

Al ignored his question in favor of fussing over him.

"_Really_, Brother, I've told you not to lean your chair back like that! I hope you didn't hit your head; one of these days you're going to crack it open on the floor-"

Ed rolled his eyes, beginning to recover. "Yeah, yeah, can you give me a hand?"

Al reached out and pulled his brother to his feet. Their eyes locked, lips tugging into a secret smile that they couldn't help sharing every time skin met skin.

"Now," Ed began as Al drew away. "What were you saying? I think I misheard."

Despite the flush that rose in his cheeks, Al's voice was determined as he repeated, "I need to get a girlfriend!"

Ed lifted an eyebrow, his expression clearly disbelieving. "That's what I thought you said," he sighed. "Aren't you…ah…a little _young_ to be thinking about that sort of thing?"

"_Bro_ther! I'm fifteen! Winry started talking about boys when she was _eight_!"

Ed crossed his arms and leaned back against the edge of the table. "Winry also started playing with nuts and bolts before she was toilet trained, Al. She's not the best standard of normal behavior."

"But what about you?" Al asked, refusing to give up. "I'm only a year younger than you and I know that you think about girls…you know…that way."

"I do _not_," Ed huffed indignantly with an exaggerated frown. He watched Alphonse coyly play with the ends of his hair, trying to distract himself from the heat rising in his cheeks.

"But you and Winry-"

"Al!"

Ed watched his brother's face fall and immediately regretted snapping at him.

"I just…I thought, since I have my body back… I've wanted so many things that I couldn't have, and now…" Al exhaled softly, shoulders slumping, gaze dropping to the floor. "You know I got really lonely, Brother."

Ed's eyes softened. "I know. Hey, where's that smile I wanted to see so badly?" Al looked up at him, brow furrowing when he noticed Ed's confident smirk. "I'll help you get a girl!"

A slow grin spread across Al's face as his older brother watched, fascinated. It was all the payment Ed would ever need.

---

Alphonse lay on his stomach, face pressed into the military-issued pillow that lay at the head of his military-issued bunk in Ed's military-issued dorm. He restlessly kicked aside the military-issued sheets and flipped over onto his back, military-issued pajamas riding up his stomach as he stuck his arms behind his head. After a minute of blinking at the ceiling, Al shifted onto his side to stare across the few feet separating his bed from his brother's.

"What do you think they _want_?"

Ed's muffled reply issued from beneath a lump of military-issued covers. "Al…what? Can't this wait until t'morrow?"

"But I can't sleep…"

The covers shook as Ed released a loud snort. "O'_course_ y'can. Y've got five years t'make upf'r."

Al could tell by the slurring in Ed's speech that he wouldn't remain conscious for long. "I'm serious!" he protested, trying to grab his brother's attention. "You promised to help me!"

A pair of bleary gold eyes peered out from Ed's cover-nest. "With _what_?"

"Girls!" Al answered, voice cracking. He mentally cursed the fact that he couldn't even talk about the opposite sex without blushing. Ed groaned and closed his eyes as Al continued speaking. "I need to make a good first impression, right? So I have to know what girls are looking for."

The furrow that appeared between Ed's eyebrows was the only sign of his offense. "How do you expect _me_ know? Last time I checked, I didn't have the right parts to be a girl. Go ask one of them if you're so curious."

Al sat up and stared at his brother incredulously. "I couldn't!" he exclaimed, scandalized. "I, I mean, that would be so…so…"

"Al."

"…so- What?"

Ed sighed heavily. "You're fine the way you are. Now go to sleep."

"But what if-"

"Any girl would be happy to have you. Now go to sleep."

"I think that's a little-"

"And if she's not I'll kick her ass. Now go to sleep."

"Brother…" Al said suspiciously, crossing his arms. "You're only telling me all this to get out of giving advice, aren't you?"

Ed opened his eyes again just enough to pull off a spectacular glare. "What do you expect me to say? 'Oh Al, I know _exactly_ what you need to do to score points with the ladies. First you have to cut your hair, then you should-'"

"Do you really think so?" Al interrupted, plucking at the blond strands that fell over his shoulders and frowning slightly. "I kind of like it long…"

"Argh! I was _joking_!"

Al remained silent for a moment, running his hair through his fingers as he pondered the idea of cutting it. The only image that he could dredge up was that of his ten-year-old self, just before he'd lost his body. Then, abruptly, a thought struck him. "Actually, Brother, you might be right. The colonel has short hair, and he's dated _loads_ of women."

Apparently abandoning sleep for the night, Ed sat up, arms draped over his bent knees as he shot Al a very strange look. "He's also a total bastard. Are you going to start acting like a total bastard, Al?"

"What? Of course not! Why would I- What's so funny?" Al asked, noticing that his brother had started to laugh loudly.

"Imagine," Ed managed between gasps, "you trying to act like Colonel Shit! Ooo, I can see it now: Alphonse Elric, the new ladder-climbing ladies' man. Look out, Mustang, you've got competi-"

Ed was interrupted by Al's military-issued pillow firmly connecting with his face. He returned it without much force, staring at his younger brother appraisingly. "Hm, I take that back. Maybe you _could _handle it."

Al lay down again and turned to face the wall. "If you're just going to make fun of me," he said, trying to keep the sulkiness out of his voice, "you might as well go back to sleep."

"Aw, c'mon, Al," Ed chided. "Don't be like that. I didn't mean it."

Al pouted and traced the cracks in the plaster with one neatly trimmed nail.

"Hey," Ed continued hopefully. "I'll cut your hair for you right now, okay? What d'you think of that?"

Before Al could respond, he was being dragged up onto his feet. The older boy's eyes shone in eagerness as he glanced around their bedroom. "Scissors, scissors…Al, do we have any scissors?" Al could only shake his head numbly, still trying to recover from the force of his brother's sudden enthusiasm.

"Aha!" Ed exclaimed, and pulled Al through the door. He shut it behind them, then clapped his hands together in preparation. One flash of light later, the doorknob had disappeared and Ed was holding a small pair of brass scissors in his hand. He snipped them experimentally in the air before grinning and grabbing hold of Al's wrist once more.

"To the bathroom!" he cried, dragging Al down the hallway.

"Brother!" Alphonse hissed in reproach. "People are sleeping, you have to be quiet!"

"To hell with quiet, the walls are thick!"

Al's eyes closed as his face scrunched up in sympathy for the other boarders who would be waking up exhausted. They may have been used to Fullmetal's…eccentricities by now, but that didn't mean they were immune. Al's eyelids flew back upwards just in time to save him from a broken nose as he tripped over his own feet. He was about to plead with Ed to _slow down_, but before he got a word out, he'd run straight into the older boy's back.

"We're here!" Ed exclaimed, but his face shifted from excited to confused to worried in a span of seconds as he noticed that Alphonse was no longer standing behind him. "Al, you have to be more careful," he scolded his brother, who was now sprawled on the floor. "I keep saying that you've got to go easy on yourself until you're back to full strength but you don't listen. And people call _me _stubborn!" Ed let out a small self-righteous snort, and Al exasperatedly dropped his head into his hands.

Al was hauled to his feet and brushed off, made to feel like an irresponsible six-year-old in the process, and pulled into the bathroom. He found himself staring into his own golden eyes, reflected in a mirror that hung above one of the sinks. Ed's grinning face hung over his right shoulder, scissors lifted into the air like a harbinger of doom.

"I-I-I'm not entirely sure I want to do this," Al stuttered. "Are you sure it's the right decision?"

Ed rolled his eyes and curled a strand of deep gold around his fingers. "I thought you wanted a date. You said yourself, the girls don't want this."

"Oh, some girls do," Al replied nonchalantly, allowing himself a small smile.

"Uh huh," Ed snorted. "Like who?"

Al watched as his reflection's mouth twisted into a smirk that surprised even himself; he knew that he couldn't have managed such a devilish expression a few years ago, metal face or no. Spinning around to meet his brother's confused eyes, he reached out and pulled Ed's hair over one shoulder. Removed from its braid for the night, it had been hanging down his back, nearly reaching his waist.

Al pointedly stared at the long blonde strands before meeting Ed's gaze once more. "Hmm…" He spoke slowly, holding the older boy's attention. "I was thinking of girls like Winry, Brother." His voice was innocent, but Al's smirk remained and his eyes shone with mischief.

"Winry has nothing to do with this," Ed snapped, frowning. "And I _don't_-"

"Okay!" Al lifted his hands in an attempt at a placating gesture. "Okay, calm down."

"I'm calm, I'm calm," Ed grumbled. "Now turn around so I can do this." He hefted the scissors once more, and Al cringed but obeyed, resigning himself to his fate.

"Have you ever tried this before?" Al asked, watching nervously as his brother lifted a chunk of hair between two fingers. Ed peered at it for a few seconds before carelessly chopping it off a couple inches from the roots.

"Are you saying you don't trust me?" he shot back accusingly.

_Too late to stop it now_, Al thought with a sigh. "I never said that…"

"I know you were thinking it, though."

Al watched as the scissors snipped viciously in the mirror and another lock tumbled to the bathroom floor. He tried to speak gently so as not to anger the older boy any further. "It's just…I've heard that you're supposed to get hair wet before cutting it. And how were you planning to clean up this mess once you're finished?"

Ed glanced at the bathroom tiles and shrugged. "I'll transmute something out of it. And don't even think of sticking your head under the faucet! You want your hair to look good when it's _dry_, right? So I'm cutting it dry. Oh, shit."

Al gave a small yelp, jerking away from his brother's hands. "What did you do?"

Ed rolled his eyes and moved back into position. "Chill out, jeez," he mumbled. "I just cut one piece a bit shorter than the rest. All I have to do is match everything up to that one and you're fine. Stop moving!"

"Sorry," Al sighed, trying to keep from fidgeting in his nervousness. "As long as you can see what you're doing-"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING TOO SHORT TO SEE THE TOP OF YOUR HEAD?"

Al groaned and decided to better acquaint his face with the palm of his hand.

---

Al met his own gaze in the mirror with eyes that were wide with what Ed hoped was delight but, realistically, was far more likely to be horror.

"It's not so bad," he said cautiously as he reached around his little brother's waist to turn on the sink. He stuck a hand under the faucet before trying to smooth down one of the choppier sections of his handiwork. "See, if you do this…"

"You…you…" Al's voice was strangled, and Ed's conscience, survival instincts, and better judgment rallied together to tell him to start running before it was too late.

"Brother, you _idiot_! You _mutilated_ me!"

…it was too late.

"It's only your hair! It'll grow back!" Ed reasoned frantically while ducking the punch that Al threw at his head.

"_Only_ my hair?" Al cried. "I thought my _hair_ was the all-important key to getting a date!"

"Well, hold on, maybe I can transmute it back!"

Al darted forward and grabbed Ed's wrists before he had a chance to clap them together. He'd seen the vein that most of Ed's creations seemed to follow and he hated to think what kind of monstrosity awaited him. "Don't bother," he said quickly. "Come to think of it, this isn't so bad. And it _will_ grow back. Eventually."

"Really?" Ed asked, blinking. At his brother's nod, a grin spread across his face and he reached up to ruffle Al's hair. "Hey, if a girl refuses you just 'cause your hair looks funny, she doesn't deserve you in the first place."

A flush rose in the younger boy's cheeks, prompting him to stare down at his bare feet, but Ed didn't miss the smile dancing on his lips and couldn't stop himself from pulling his only brother – the one he fought for, lived for, would easily die for – into a heartfelt embrace.


	3. Fall All Over

Challenge: Sport. And thanks to my lovely beta Kyaru who prompted me with 'chess' as well. This time made with 100 all-natural fluff. –Okay, okay, a bit of jealous!Ed slipped in. Can I help myself?

**-----**

**Fall All Over**

Alphonse knows that his brother is a sore loser. That's the reason he gives for tagging along each time Ed and Mustang set up their black and white battlefield. It would be a shame if the future Fuhrer got himself killed over something as trivial as a chess game.

While his older brother sends a pebble skittering down the street in front of them, Al lifts a fallen leaf to his nose and breathes in the scent of yesterday's rain. Autumn air is golden, Al decides, slipping the leaf into his pocket; the same color as Brother's eyes. He inhales again and he can taste it at the back of his throat – golden-brown, perhaps.

As soon as he realizes that he's falling behind, Alphonse runs to catch up to Edward, who has been carefully measuring his steps since Al left his view. Early evening's deepening light casts elongated shadows at their backs. The younger boy refrains from mentioning that his shadow is a head taller.

-----

Central Headquarters is nearly deserted when the Elric brothers enter. A few overtime stragglers dot the corridors, but they are otherwise alone. The door of the Colonel's office stands open as if welcoming them and Al smiles at the sight of the man himself, toying idly with a black knight as he waits.

The sound of the boys' approaching footsteps prompts Roy to get to his feet. He greets them at the door, a gesture that Edward disregards entirely. There is a fond annoyance in Roy's expression as Ed sweeps past him, and dark eyes linger on the blonde's figure a few seconds longer than they ought to. Alphonse notices but doesn't speak; the hand that rests in the center of his back, ushering him inside, holds both his attention and his tongue.

Roy subtly lifts his coat from its hanger to place it on an unoccupied chair. It's an open invitation for Al to sit down, one that's made every day but never taken. Al does grab the coat, though, and wraps it around his shoulders as he leaves Roy's side to settle at his brother's feet.

Mustang's office always grows chilly in the time between winter's first approach and the middle of December when the heating finally kicks in.

Alphonse used to stretch out his neck like a swan while Roy snapped his fingers beneath the boy's chin to drive away the cold. Al would laugh until his throat ached, trying not to go cross-eyed as he watched the glow of sparks that danced just out of sight. It was Ed who put his foot down the day Roy singed the side of Al's neck, but it had been the Colonel's initiative to start locking his gloves in a desk drawer each time the Elrics came to visit.

Al pulls thick fabric tightly to his sides and rests his cheek on his brother's leg. Automail may not make a comfortable pillow, but this way Ed can thread his fingers through Al's hair without catching strands of it in metal joints. Alphonse finds that he can follow the game with his eyes closed. Gentle petting means that Edward is contemplating his next attack. His hand will bear down slightly on Al's scalp whenever he makes a particularly brilliant revelation, and lift once he's ready to move.

It isn't until Ed tries to twine his brother's close-cropped locks around his finger that Al knows it's Roy's turn. Then the younger boy cracks open an eyelid to catalogue the Colonel's shifting expressions. It requires a careful eye to notice them at all, but Alphonse has had a great deal of practice; Roy at his quickest takes twice the time Ed does to assess the board.

Each round can consume anywhere from thirty minutes to seven hours. Tonight, an hour and a half passes before Roy makes his familiar declaration of "Checkmate, Fullmetal" and Ed's hand snaps into a fist.

As Roy begins to set his pieces back on their squares for the final match, he casts a glance at the younger Elric. "Would you care to play the winner tomorrow evening, Alphonse?" he proposes casually, as if by that one question he weren't shattering the routine they've carried out for months. Ed sucks in his breath with a loud _whoosh_ that seems to echo inside of Al's head. They both know that in all his bouts with the Fullmetal Alchemist, Roy Mustang has never lost a game.

-----

Roy stands waiting for them at the door and forgets to take down his coat. Ed pulls up a third chair, flipping it around so he can sit with his legs straddling the back.

"Are you sure you don't mind, sir?" Al asks.

Roy simply closes his eyes in a smile and guides the boy to his seat.

As much as Al would like to turn his full attention to the chessboard, he finds it impossible to concentrate with his brother fidgeting two feet away. It isn't long before Ed is on his feet, looking out the window, flipping through a book that lies open on the Colonel's desk, picking lint from the rug. Al doesn't notice him leaving until Edward slams the door in his departure.

-----

Alphonse wonders if it's possible to drown in paving stones; they shine black as the surface of a lake in winter. Streetlights cast wavering reflections along the road, so many sticks of melted butter dribbled across his path.

_Sometimes I think I'd like to be part of the rain_, Al had mused as he watched fat beads of water slide down the window against a backdrop of darkening sky.

_Why?_ Roy asked him. Their chess game was long finished, the board neglected and still strewn with fallen players.

The question surprised Al, but his thoughts slipped from him easily. _I could fall all over the world and feel everything at once._ A shiver tripped down his spine at the idea.

Roy rubbed his chin with two fingers and gave a little snort. _Everything but me. You had better stay here until it stops. I'll walk you home._

Al had made sure to tuck the edges of the Colonel's coat around his sleeping form before leaving the man's office.

Al wishes that Roy could walk him home. They would hit the hotel and keep on going, hop a train to Risembool, find a house near the Rockbell's… But Roy has an ambition and Alphonse has Edward, anchors with which neither will easily part.

Al heaves a sigh and tries to watch the puff of air leaving his lips, but there's nothing to see. Soon, each breath will take form in a cloud of white. Children will start snowball fights in the street, running in giddy fear when they accidentally mar a blue uniform with powdery remains. Roy will light fires behind grates and ask the Elrics to stay for tea.

When Al reaches the hotel, a golden glow peeking from beneath the door of their room reveals that his brother is still awake. He enters quietly but without caution, as if returning so early in the morning were a natural occurrence.

Edward is quiet too. He sits on the couch staring at his folded hands, and his voice is a soft, controlled growl. "Where have you been?"

"With Colonel Mustang," Al replies smoothly, keeping his eyes on Ed as he leans back against the door.

"Doing what?" When Ed meets the younger boy's gaze, his own is burning in accusation. His knuckles are white.

Alphonse shrugs. "Talking, mostly."

"Talking. Huh."

A nervous laugh escapes Al's lips. "And playing chess," he adds quickly. "But you already knew that."

Ed opens his mouth to speak, snaps it shut again, and shakes his head. "Who won?" he asks.

"Well, the Colonel, of course," Al answers, raising his eyebrows.

Ed blinks. "Of course."

A dead silence settles between them. Edward seems to slump into the couch cushions. Alphonse scuffs at the floor uneasily with the toe of his left shoe. Al is about to say something when Ed stands, back turned in his brother's direction. "I'm going to bed," he announces, and he's left the room before Al can stop him.

-----

The next evening, Al's head is in Roy's lap, and Roy's fingers are buried in golden locks.

"Checkmate, Fullmetal," he declares before the game has even started.

Edward doesn't acknowledge the words. He simply moves his first pawn forward with determination in his eyes. When Mustang wins in seven moves, Ed doesn't shout, shake, or even flinch.

"Oi Al," he says instead. "Get up here and let Colonel Shit take the floor for once."

Alphonse scrambles to his feet to see his brother's face more clearly. Ed is forcing down a smile, but one corner of his mouth keeps twitching like it's ready to jump up and run away. Al sits down in Roy's chair, warming his back on the man's lingering body heat, and sets up his side of the board with a grin.

And because his brother is being a surprisingly good sport about all of this, Alphonse lets him win.


	4. Stained

Disclaimer: Arakawa owns the world - who am I to lay claim to even a portion of her greatness?

Notes: The challenge: Flowers. The secret: this is not fluff. But it's _supposed_ to be, so interpret how you will. Unbetaed because my wifey has been very busy lately. She did prompt me to stick a newspaper in here somewhere, though.

**Stained**

Ed's sixth spring was a season of hard rain, and he could still remember the mud years later, though his mind had swathed most other recollections in layers of hard knocks. The soles of his feet would grow black when he played outdoors, leaving a trail of tiny prints that gave him away no matter where he tried to hide. Not even Al was safe from the dirt; he would wrestle with the pump and come out the worse for it, palms streaked, feet no cleaner than before. Trisha Elric couldn't be found without a rag in one hand and dark smears on her dress.

Ed tried to rouse himself as soon as the light outside his windows grew from black to dim blue. He crept out of bed and shed his nightclothes in the hallway, slipping naked through the door. Shivering on his knees, he dragged his fingers through the grass, searching for the wet touch of earthworm flesh. The dead ones weren't much fun, but if he felt something curl beneath his skin, Ed would plop it into an empty pickle jar that he stowed under his bed.

When Trisha came to wake her sons for school, the older boy closed his eyes tightly in a child's parody of sleep. He heard her sigh over the stained sheets and pajamas that, despite his best efforts, he hadn't preserved against traces of muddy arms and legs.

-

Every student lined his shoes along the wall to keep from tracking the weather across scrubbed floorboards, but the schoolhouse still smelled like sodden turf. Ed's nostrils prickled as he slumped, chin on the table he shared with his brother. He wished there were a clock in the room.

Beside him, Al struggled with his letters. Both boys could read better than many of the older children, but writing was something they hadn't picked up from their father's books. Ed smiled as Al spelled out a shaky B-R-O-T-H-E-R.

_Too young_, the teacher had said, and Trisha would have gladly kept her second son at home for another year were he not so persistent. He would cling to her skirts, pleading with watery eyes, and Ed would join in too because he thought it looked like fun. Besides, school couldn't possibly be interesting without Al to talk to.

When Alphonse followed his brother out of the house on the first day, Trisha hadn't stopped him.

Ed pushed a hand deep into his pants pocket; he had hidden the worms there when he realized that his pickle jar was too conspicuous. Catching a slim, squirming body between his fingers, Ed scuffed the floor beneath his chair with impatient kicks and waited. The instant his teacher turned to the blackboard, he dropped his victim down the back of Al's shirt.

Al jerked a little and his spine straightened abruptly. Ed had anticipated a more satisfying reaction – shrieks or wild flailing – but all Al did was frown and carefully search the length of his back for the intruder. It wasn't long before his hand withdrew, cupping the earthworm inside the warm shell of his palm.

Al hopped off his chair without a word. The wood floor was sturdy enough that his trek to the nearest window went unnoticed, but the latch snapped as it released, and a disruptive creak of rusty hinges gave him away.

"Alphonse Elric!"

Ed watched his brother turn to the reproachful eyes of the schoolmistress. Unfazed, Al lifted his hand and the prize it held.

Her lips puckered sharply and her eyes creased at the corners. Ed had never seen a prune before, but he'd heard that they looked just as crinkly.

"Who brought that in here?" the teacher snapped.

Trying to look innocent while hiding a grin at his private joke – _Prune-face, Prune-face_ – was a difficult task, but if anyone could manage it, the boy for the job was Edward Elric. He crossed his fingers under the desk and held his breath as he waited for Al to answer.

Al's eyes darted to his brother's for only a second. "I just found it," he said. "Can I set it free?"

Edward knew that life wasn't fair. But there were times when life _really_ wasn't fair. _Like when my baby brother is a better liar than I am_, Ed thought, watching Al splay his fingers over the window ledge. The worm dropped from his open palm into the wet grass below.

-

The first morning that the sun rose into a clear sky, Winry danced down the path to the schoolhouse. Al's eyes were on her sandaled feet, circling in the dirt while her dress twirled around her knees. He began to move in a jerky imitation, but Ed hit him lightly on the back of the head and he tripped over his own feet.

A second later, Ed's face was full of grass. He yelled as Al propelled them both downhill. Al threw a punch and missed, and Ed tried to kick him in the shin only to dislodge a clod of dirt instead. Their limbs tangled up into a ball of Elric.

By the time they separated, both boys were scraped and panting. Al seemed to have forgotten that he was angry, so Ed lay on his back unguarded, watching Winry roll down after them. She held her arms above her head, hands clasped, and laughed while the world spun around her.

"We should go to school," Winry said after several minutes had passed.

Ed twisted his neck to meet her worried gaze. He threaded his fingers through blades of grass, wriggled his back in the ground, and smiled. "I bet the sky can teach us more anyway."

"Hey, I see Brother!" Al interrupted in a shout, with one finger raised toward the clouds. They could have been whipped cream on hot chocolate, white and puffed. There would be no spring storms today.

Ed reached out to flick him on the nose. "No you don't, stupid," he said.

They reached the schoolhouse half an hour late. Open windows ushered in a cool, dry breeze and Winry's dress was stained as green as the Elrics' knees.

-

There was dirt under Ed's toenails. His feet barely reached the earth from his perch on the side yard swing, but that they did reach was what mattered. Or had mattered until last month. Now that Al could perform the same feat, it didn't seem so important anymore.

Rocking back and forth, Ed tried to worm his toes deeper into the lawn. He slipped closer to the board's edge in the process. This precarious balance was short lived; Ed slid off and landed hard just as his mother called his name from the back of the house.

"See the little white flowers?" Trisha asked her older son after he joined her in the garden. Ed squatted on the balls of his feet, tipping from hand to hand as he tried to balance himself. "Do you see them, Ed?" his mother prompted patiently.

His gaze shifted to her pointing finger and he frowned at the plant she indicated. "Uh huh," he said. He rocked back onto his left hand.

"You have to pull these out right from the bottom, so you get all the roots," Trisha instructed. She tugged slowly at the base of the weed, birthing its tangled roots in a shower of soil. "Do you think you can help me do that? Let me see you try."

Ed's first three attempts were too vigorous and left him with only a torn stem, but soon he was carrying fistfuls of uprooted weeds to a growing pile at the center of the yard.

"Why isn't Al helping?" Ed asked his mother.

Trisha glanced back at the pile. Al sat beside it, playing with the discarded plants. "He thinks that all flowers should stay in the ground," she said. "Even the bad ones."

"Oh." Ed looked at his brother too. All of their practice drawing arrays had helped his dexterity; though his fingers still slipped once in a while, Al had tied a chain of stems several feet long. "He should help us anyway."

Trisha sighed and shook her head, rubbing her stained palms together. "Just leave him alone, sweetie."

The next time Ed stopped by the weed pile he pulled on Al's hair, his fingers leaving dark streaks in strands of gold. Al wrinkled his nose and gazed up with a smile. When he stood, he was too tall, and growing all the time. Ed refused to admit that his little brother would surpass him soon, but he knew. He had reminders every day.

"This is for you," Al said as he lifted his arms in the air.

Ed plucked at the flower chain that hung limply from his neck. He met Al's eyes with his brow furrowed. "It's just a buncha dead weeds."

"Not dead," Al protested, frowning. "Or it's your fault for digging them up."

"Well, what am I supposed to do with them?" Ed asked.

"Dunno," Al said with a shrug. His hair teased the tops of his squinting eyes when he smiled again. "They're pretty, right?"

Ed returned his attention to the string of twisted stems and crushed white flowers. He shredded off a leaf with his fingernail. "If you say so, I guess."

Al left him with a kiss on the cheek and a voice that laughed like imminent summer, a memory that lingered when only the mud remained.

----------------------------------

Edward Elric was tired. He was tired of showers that were just not hot enough right up until they scalded him, and of shoes staying wet past noon. He had spent too many mornings waking up with his nose cold, too many nights shivering himself to sleep. It seemed he'd snapped his mouth shut on his brother's name a hundred times as he realized that Al had no body heat to share.

Truth: the count was far greater.

But only rarely was Ed brave enough to admit to it and never stupid enough to speak his mind. He didn't like the fact that black ice waited outside his door beneath a layer of innocent powder, he didn't like walking into Mustang's office with a limp and a yellow-grey bruise that mocked him from the bathroom mirror, he didn't like having to refuse his superior's smirking offer of _Won't you sit down, Fullmetal?_; but armor didn't bruise, didn't need to sit down, and Al hadn't woken with his nose cold in five years.

No matter how many times Ed thought, _Serves him right for sneaking milk into my hot cocoa_, the gravity of their situation lurked beneath a thin layer of half-hearted jokes and forced smiles.

Some days, the Elrics both slipped on their way out the door.

-

Al had startlingly good vision for a boy without eyes. He could tell that his brother's automail was aching before Ed noticed the pain himself, he knew when a meal was ready simply by looking at it, and he could spot an abandoned kitten from seventy yards away. But he somehow missed the slush melting from the streets mid-January, and he failed to comment when Ed stopped wearing gloves in bed.

"You can't go outside like that!"

Ed's hand stopped just short of the doorknob. He glanced at his button-down shirt, then frowned at Al. "Why not?"

"You'll freeze," Al answered from their hotel room's tiny kitchen. Breakfast was in its middle stages on the countertop.

Ed sighed, rolling his eyes, and leaned back against the door. "It's really not that-"

"It's still winter, Brother," Al interrupted. The stove hissed on at the touch of his hand. "Put on a coat."

"I'm just picking up a newspaper." Ed's teeth filled his face with a grin. "Won't even have to leave the building." He closed the door on curtain-dimmed dawn, his brother's irritated voice, and a pot full of stew that Al couldn't smell.

_False spring_ passed from mouth to mouth, but everyone knew it wasn't supposed to come this soon or last this long. February was sweeping down in warm breezes while flower buds emerged from thawing soil. Flowers! Had Al missed even the flowers?

The idea surfaced silently, but by the time Ed had a newspaper in hand, it had grown too large to ignore. He walked outside without a coat that Al didn't know he didn't need.

-

There was dirt under Ed's fingernails. The lines of his palms were traced in black, ready to leave smudged handprints on anything he touched. Newsprint and soil spilled onto the table as he laid down his load.

"What were you-" Al started as he turned to greet his brother. He froze when his eyes fell on Ed's ungloved hands and the dark spread he had created. "What are you doing? You're making a mess!"

Ed only laughed and ignored the question. "Al," he said. "Al, you know it's getting warm outside? Look what I brought you, they came right from the ground!"

"Wash your hands," Al ordered, but he moved closer to the table, a cooling bowl of stew forgotten on the counter. "Are these… flowers?"

Ed blew bangs from his eyes as he lathered up his hands, taking a moment to smile over his shoulder. "Yeah, can you believe it? Grab a pot or something so we can plant them."

No answering creak of armor met Ed's words. "Why did you bring them here?" Al asked softly.

"To _show_ you," Ed replied, wiping his hands on his shirt as he turned back to his brother. "Plus they'll die if they stay out there. This warm spell can't last forever." Al remained quiet and Ed began to fidget. He wondered if he'd done something wrong. "I-I got the roots and everything, so they'll be all right. Had to waste a few sheets of newspaper, though."

"Brother…" Al shifted his attention away from the flowers to look Ed in the face. "They'll die anyway. If we find another lead… We can't carry a plant around with us everywhere we go."

Ed lifted his eyebrows and snorted. "I spent all that effort digging these up and this is the thanks I get?"

"Bro-"

"Don't be so gloomy. At least they're less work than a cat. We'll find someone else to take them when we leave."

Both boys looked back at the flowers. Most were still green and closed, but snowy petal tips poked out from several of the buds, and one was already blooming.

"Where are we going to find a pot?" Al asked after a long silence.

"Dunno." Ed's lips twitched at the corners. "They're pretty, right?"

"They're beautiful," Al replied, and Ed could hear his voice smiling.


End file.
